


Of Safe Houses and the Holiday Spirit

by Tokyo_the_Glaive



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Darcyland Secret Santa 2016, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Holiday Fic Exchange, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 18:30:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8856286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tokyo_the_Glaive/pseuds/Tokyo_the_Glaive
Summary: Having half of the now-defunct Avengers staying at Darcy's house is one thing; putting up with Steve's incessant moping as soon as December 1st rolls around is something else entirely.(Or, the one where Steve's a sad but illegally attractive fellow, Darcy just wants to have a nice holiday, and the Avengers are along for the ride.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merideath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merideath/gifts).



> Written for typhoidmeri (merideath here) for the Darcyland Secret Santa 2016. I hope you enjoy!! This is my first time writing Steve Rogers, so I hope I did okay. Enormous thanks to amidtheflowers, without whom I would have had to bail on the exchange. You rock friend!!

It was the first truly cold day in weeks when Darcy dragged Jane out of the house.

“It’s freezing,” Jane complained as she flopped into the passenger seat.

“It’s _bracing_ ,” Darcy said. Her breath fogged her glasses. She glanced back up at the house; a curtain, once pulled back, fell into place. Sam, maybe. More likely Steve. Darcy revved the engine and pulled out of the driveway.

“Besides,” she said, “I needed to get out of there.”

Jane shook her head. “It’s your house. You want them out, you can kick them out.”

Darcy pulled out onto the tiny thing that qualified as a street—it didn’t even have a line to divide traffic—and gunned it.

“Don’t think kicking superheroes out of your house is good hostess behavior,” she said. “Besides. I invited them.”

Jane looked out the window as the countryside rolled past. She hadn’t believed that Darcy had a place, squirreled away in the middle of nowhere in Delaware, but she did. It was big, too. It easily fit the band of misfit superheroes, plus significant others. Darcy and Laura were quickly becoming buddies, if only because they seemed to be the only two normal people around. Darcy would have brought her on their outing, too, but the kids had just gone down for a nap and she and Clint wanted some time together. Darcy wasn’t judging, though she was jealous. No one had looked at her the way Clint looked at Laura in…forever, actually.

“Darcy?”

“What?”

“You spaced out,” Jane said.

Darcy snapped out of it, slowing down as she did so. “Sorry,” she said. “Did you say something?”

“Just that you don’t have to, that’s all,” Jane said. “You got dragged into this.”

“So did you,” Darcy pointed out. “You’re not bailing.”

“I don’t want to lose my research,” Jane said.

“Like I said, you didn’t have a choice.”

“I did,” Jane insisted. She sighed, ran a hand through her hair. “It’s complicated.”

Darcy didn’t look away from the road. Things got tricky once they got into the trees, but then they’ve be back in civilization—or, as close to civilization as a state like Delaware could have.

“You can tell me all about it over a mocha latte,” Darcy said. “Or, ooooh, cappuccino? Or maybe I want something weird, like a frappe.”

“Are those words?”

Darcy grinned. “Oh, how the tables turn.”

* * *

The transition from farmland to the suburbs was as quick as it was startling. Where there were acres upon acres of fields and sporadic farmhouses—or mansions—before, now there were little developments with gold gilt signposts out front, tiny shopping centers full of chain stores, and more gas stations than you could shake a finger at.

Darcy pulled into one of the shopping centers and headed for the back.

“This didn’t used to be here,” Darcy said. She pulled into a spot and switched off the ignition. “Used to be a…law firm? Maybe. Or real estate.”

“Starbucks?” Jane asked.

“No judgment,” Darcy said. “Come on, I heard they have a _bar_.”

* * *

The Starbucks did indeed have a bar, but neither Jane or Darcy got themselves an alcoholic drink. Instead, Darcy found herself with something that tasted like hot, liquid gingerbread and heaven. Jane had some sort of quadruple-shot monstrosity that Darcy suspected would keep her awake for days. They sat near the back, in a table where they both could watch the room just in case, and sipped their drinks.

Darcy hummed, clutching her cup close. “Much better,” she said. “Room full of college students and old white ladies with bad Botox.” Jane swatted at her. “Just saying, not much has changed. This area’s always been SWAT-y. Even as everything else falls apart, they’re all still here.”

“The world’s going to pieces,” Jane murmured, watching a woman with caked-on makeup and a knock-off alligator handbag gesticulate to someone who looked eerily similar, “and they’re acting like nothing’s wrong.”

“To them, nothing _is_ wrong,” Darcy said. “The Sokovia Accords don’t affect them.”

Jane shook her head. “But don’t they see what’s happening?” she asked. “With the election and the new surveillance bills, to say nothing about what they did to Wanda when—”

Darcy glared at her, and Jane’s eyes widened. A little too loud. No one had looked their way, but that didn’t mean anything. They’d promised Steve—as if he had any right to legislate what they did—that they’d be cautious and avoid all notice.

“Sorry,” Jane said.

“It’s fine. I’m upset about it, too,” Darcy admitted. Clint had carried Wanda in on his back. The lacerations around her neck from the shock collar hadn’t healed yet, and she jumped at the sight of anything that moved for days after she arrived. “But they don’t see it. They want to keep their money and their little enclaves,” Darcy said. “Unless someone comes knocking for them, they don’t care.”

Jane stared at her. “You really don’t like these people, do you?” she asked.

Darcy shrugged and took a sip of her drink. “It’s not that,” she said after she swallowed. “It’s just that I grew up here—well, at the house, but I went to school just near here. I know what they’re like, and it’s not anything like you and me.”

Jane didn’t have much to say to that. She glanced outside—it had been overcast for days, but now it looked a little darker, a little more like snow. Darcy hoped it would snow, preferably after she’d done the grocery shopping. They’d had an unseasonably warm autumn, and she expected a frigid winter to make up for it. A white Christmas would just be icing on the cake. She couldn’t remember the last time it had snowed in time for the holidays, but she had her fingers crossed for this year. Even if everything else was falling apart—even with all that had happened—they could have something nice.

“Thank you,” Jane said abruptly.

“For what?”

“This,” she said. “I didn’t realize how long it had been since I’d last been out.”

Darcy smiled. “Yeah,” she said. “It’s been awhile.”

“Can I just…?” Jane asked. She was still looking at the sky. When Darcy didn’t respond, Jane said, all in a rush, “Is it stupid that I keep looking up and thinking he’ll come back?”

Darcy reached across the table to interlace their fingers. “No,” she said. “It’s not.” There were tears in the corners of Jane’s eyes, and she wiped at them with her sleeve. Darcy saw the fraying hems and made a mental note to steal it out of the laundry for a little repair job. If she couldn’t, the nice Korean lady who ran the dry cleaners down the street could. Darcy knew for a fact that she’d be willing to help with anything, from mended clothes on up to smuggling. She’d be able to fix whatever Jane had done to her shirt.

“You liked him,” Darcy said. “Now he’s gone.”

“Yeah,” Jane said. “I just wish…” she trailed off. “Did I make the right choice?”

“Leaving him?” Darcy asked.

Jane nodded. Before Darcy could answer, she added, “I mean, I’m not second-guessing—I would have had to have given up everything, and outliving everyone? I couldn’t imagine what that would be like, and the thought made me so upset, and—”

“You don’t have to justify it to me,” Darcy said. “I think it was good.” Jane didn’t reply. “I mean it.”

“I know you do,” Jane said softly. “It’s just weird.”

“Because now you feel alone?” Darcy asked.

Jane tore her eyes away from the window. “Because I don’t feel any different,” she admitted. Darcy took in a breath, and Jane quickly said, “I’m sorry. Here you are, trying to have a nice day, and I’m….Let’s talk about something else.”

Darcy offered a weak smile. “I was thinking of putting up Christmas decorations,” she said.

“Christmas… _oh_ ,” Jane said, straightening up. “It’s December?”

“Yep. The ninth.”

Jane’s eyes went wide, and her jaw worked for a while before she said, “I completely lost track of time.”

Darcy laughed. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Do you celebrate?” Jane asked. “Did we ever put up decorations?”

“Yes,” Darcy deadpanned. “All over the lab last year.”

“How didn’t I notice?” Jane asked. “I could have sworn—”

Darcy giggled. “I’m messing with you. We didn’t—I didn’t. This year I wanted to do a little something.”

Jane shook her head. “December,” she said. “That makes sense. I didn’t think you were religious, though.”

“I’m not,” Darcy explained. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like Christmas. I mean, come on. It’s a great food holiday.” She took a slurp of her latte to demonstrate. “Besides, this year Christmas and Hanukkah don’t overlap so there’s even more to celebrate. I’m going to get a tree and put up little lights, and put out this pretty menorah I’ve got somewhere. It’s going to be awesome.”

“What about Kwanzaa?” Jane asked.

“Dude, cultural appropriation,” Darcy said. “I don’t think I’m allowed to celebrate Kwanzaa.”

“What, why?”

“Never mind.” Darcy took a long sip of her drink. “Hey, while we’re out and about we should get little things for our new roommates. Oooh, we could wrap them up and put them under a tree!”

“You want to do _presents_?” Jane asked.

“Not big ones,” Darcy protested. “Little things. We could make cards, do something nice, get in the holiday spirit.”

Jane bit her lip. “I don’t think our _roommates_ need anything we can buy,” Jane said.

“Everyone needs something, or wants something. I, for example, want a new pair of gloves,” Darcy said. “You know those really soft ones?”

“What happened to your old ones?” Jane asked. Darcy pulled a face at the memory. “Oh, oh. That. Him. Um.” Jane looked down, fidgeting with her sleeve. Darcy took in a deep breath. _Stupid_. She’d forgotten that it was Thor who’d stretched them out. If he ever came back to Earth, she was going to kill him—for Jane, not for the gloves, or maybe for both. Either way, it would be her supervillain origin story.

“Anyway,” Darcy said, eager to steer the conversation away from the can of worms labelled _Thor_ , “the holidays can be a lot of fun, and just because everything’s a mess doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

Jane frowned. “It just doesn’t feel very cheerful, that’s all.” When Darcy didn’t respond, she continued, “I get the feeling that our roommates aren’t particularly festive.”

Darcy nodded. “Cap’s the worst.”

“ _Darcy_.”

Darcy put up her hands. “Telling it like it is, and you know it’s true. The First rolled around and _boom_ , his grumpy pants went on. He looks like every time he turns around he’s seeing kicked puppies that he can’t save.”

“I’m sure he has a lot on his plate,” Jane said. She swirled her drink without taking a sip. “Besides, we don’t know what happened before.”

“True,” Darcy conceded. “But now isn’t then, now is now. You’ve got to live in the now.”

“You’ve been reading too much philosophy,” Jane said. “Who’s that, Socrates?”

“Maybe,” Darcy said. “I thought that was one of those internet things, but whatever. Anyway, We’re all here and safe. Might as well make the best of it, right?”

* * *

Darcy drove them back to her house with a plan. As soon as she was safely pulled into the driveway, she ran inside. Foyer was empty, and the rooms to either side of it were still locked tight—there were things in there Darcy wasn’t prepared to deal with, much less show other people—but as she went forward, under the stairs and through to the kitchen, she quickly located Clint nursing a cup of coffee.

“Hey,” she said.

“Afternoon,” he greeted. “Next time you go get coffee, bring me something back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Darcy said. “You seen Rogers?”

Clint gestured toward the back doors. “Out back,” he said. “He’s in a mood.”

“Great,” Darcy said, heading for the doors.

“Your funeral,” he muttered, but Darcy was passing through the pay doors and onto the little brick patio behind the house. It disappeared into an enormous yard walled in by trees. Steve was there, on the ground, doing pushups. Darcy took a moment to appreciate the view. She didn’t know why Steve _insisted_ on buying shirts at least one size too small, but she wasn’t complaining.

“Hey, Cap,” she called. He looked up at her, still crouched on the ground. She waved. “Hey!”

Steve pushed himself up and off the ground, landing on his feet. Darcy admired his form once more before shaking herself out of it. She was on a mission.

“Back already?” he asked, voice tight. “Did anyone—”

“No trouble,” Darcy said. “I know you were worried.”

Steve walked up to her, absolutely towering over her. “I’m just saying you should take one of us with you,” he said. “It’s dangerous for you, now.”

“It was dangerous for me before,” Darcy said. “I’m the monster who kidnapped Jane Foster, remember?”

Steve’s face radiated disapproval. “And now you’re housing the world’s most wanted,” he said. Darcy shrugged. “I mean it. I worry about you.”

“Yeah, well if you’re so worried, maybe you can help me with something?” she asked, smiling and looking at him over her glasses. It had always worked with guys in college, but then again they’d always been looking at her boobs. Steve did, too, but not in front of her. Different times and all that.

Now, Steve was looking directly at her, and whatever he saw didn’t make him happy because he asked, “Why do I feel like I’m not going to like this?”

Darcy forced herself to smile a little wider. “Well, it’s almost Christmas,” she said. “I wanted to get a tree.”

“A tree,” Steve said, “for Christmas.”

He seemed to be expecting her to confirm, so Darcy said, “Well, yeah. It’s almost Christmas.”

“A tree,” Steve repeated. “From where?”

“I was hoping you’d come with me to get one?” she asked.

Steve’s face clouded over. “Better ask Clint,” he said, turning away. “I’m too recognizable.”

“Wait, woah, you want me to go out with someone every time I leave the house but you won’t volunteer?” Darcy asked. “Come on, Cap, it’ll be fun.”

Steve’s smile was tight. “I’m sure,” he said. “But not this time.”

“Come on,” Darcy begged. “It’ll get you into the Christmas spirit!”

Steve stiffened. “Thanks,” he said, “but I think I have to say no. I’m sorry, Darcy. I’m sure your tree will be lovely.” He dropped back to the ground and resumed his workout. Darcy, however, had never been one to give up easy.

“Why don’t you like the holidays?” she asked.

Grunting, he replied, “What gave you that idea?”

“You’ve been hiding out here for days,” she said. “You’ve got to be freezing—I mean, it’s got to be colder than that ice block they pulled you out of today.” Steve remained unfazed. “You don’t eat with us. Wanda’s the only one who ever sees you.”

“Spying on me?” Steve asked. “You and Natasha should chat.”

Darcy ignored the barb. “You haven’t talked to her, either.”

“Monitoring my phone calls?”

“No, she texted me,” Darcy said. “She’s worried you’re dead.”

Steve looked up at her with a frown. “She _texted_ you?”

“Yeah, we’re besties now. She sends me Snapchats of the Trevi Fountain and everything,” Darcy said.

“Snapchats?”

Darcy ignored the question. “What’s eating you, buddy?” she asked. “Come on, you can tell Darcy.”

Steve sighed. “You’re not going to let this drop, are you?”

“Nope.”

He pushed himself up for a second time. “Fine,” he said, brushing the dirt from his hands. “Where are we getting this tree?”

* * *

Darcy returned inside feeling accomplished. She was going to get Steve out of the house, and he was going to _like_ it. She’d get him into the holiday spirit if it killed her.

Wanda had joined Clint in the kitchen. She had a cup of tea in her hand, one she nearly upended at the sound of the door opening.

“Just me,” Darcy said as cheerfully as she could manage. It was hard when Wanda always looked like she was about to burst into tears.

“Dr. Foster is upstairs,” Wanda said.

Darcy took a seat next to her. “You know, her and science are like this,” she said, crossing her fingers. “What are you up to today?”

Wanda shrugged, and Clint asked, “How’s Mr. Smiles today?”

Darcy laughed. “You know,” she said. “He’s going to go with me to get a Christmas tree!”

“A Christmas tree?” Wanda asked. She looked at Darcy with an odd expression.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “You want to come?”

Wanda hesitated, looking to Clint. “Sure,” he said, answering for both of them. To Wanda, he said, “Don’t worry.”

Wanda seemed to shrink. “Where would we get the tree?” she asked. “Will there be many people?”

“I know a guy,” Darcy said. Clint’s eyebrows shot straight up. “We’ll be the only people there, promise.”

Wanda seemed to relax. “Very well,” she said. “I would like to come.”

“Where are we going?” Sam asked, appearing in the doorway.

“Tree hunting!” Darcy said. “You coming, too?”

“Like, Christmas tree?” he asked. “Oh, Steve’s gonna love this.”

“I told him first,” Darcy said stubbornly. “He’s going to help.”

Sam looked to Clint, who shrugged. “I gotta see this,” he said. “Dude’s been moping for days.”

“I know, right?” Darcy said. “But we can fix that.”

“I’ll tell Scott,” Sam said. “We’ll all go.”

“Sweet!” Darcy said, sing-song. “It’s going to be so great, you don’t even know.”

* * *

“No.”

Darcy could not believe what she was hearing.

“What? No, no take-backs,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. She pouted; Steve remained impassive. “You said you’d come.”

“Everyone else is going,” he said. “Someone else has to hold down the fort.”

“Dude, it’s _my_ fort,” Darcy said, “so if anyone’s going to be holding, it’s me. Besides, Laura and the kids are staying behind because they've got colds and don't feel well. The house isn't going anywhere.” Steve folded his arms. New tactic. “Please, for me? No one else’s as strong as you are, and I want to get a really, really big tree.”

Steve pulled a face that said, _really_?

Darcy hopped up and down and groaned. “Everyone’s piled into the car waiting,” she whined. “It’s going to be so much fun, and—”

Darcy froze when she felt hands on her shoulder. Steve’s hands. Warm hands. Steve’s warm hands.

Oh, she was doomed.

“Darcy,” he said, in that soft way he got sometimes, “I’m not exactly a holiday guy. Go have some fun. I mean it.”

“But I want you to come with,” Darcy said. “You don’t need to be all get-up-and-go about it, but…” She frowned. It was hard to have a serious conversation when his biceps were so close. “Why are you so grumpy, anyway.”

Steve shook his head. “I am not grumpy,” he insisted.

Darcy pointed at him, gesturing for emphasis. “You are,” she said. “What gives? Someone stole your presents when you were tiny?”

“We didn’t have presents when I was tiny,” Steve said, voice tight.

Darcy immediately felt like an ass. “Oh,” she said. “Well. Uh…”

“Look,” Steve said, saving her from further embarrassment, “this time of year is...hard. For me. There are a lot of things I’d rather not think about.”

Darcy’s shoulders slumped. “Okay,” she said. “I shouldn’t have pushed, sorry. I just thought you’d be able to get your mind out of the sad bucket if you got into the holiday spirit.”

“It means that much to you,” Steve said. Darcy looked up, confused. He sighed. One of those hands left Darcy’s shoulder to push through his hair. Darcy knew she shouldn’t stare—really, really shouldn’t—but she did.

She was so doomed.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“You don’t have to,” Darcy said, putting up her hands.

Steve pulled a face. “It’s worth a try,” he said. “Besides, there’s no one I can run laps around with all of you gone.”

“I’m going to tell them you said that,” Darcy teased. Steve grumbled, but he wasn’t frowning any more, so Darcy called that a little win. She pulled him out the door and into the cold. The car was running in the driveway; Sam honked the horn from the backseat.

“Mr. Grinch, hurry up!” he called. Steve pulled a face but dutifully got into the car, nearly squashing Wanda in the process. Darcy climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Everybody in?” she asked, doing a headcount. Jane had taken the front seat and was holding her hands to the heaters to keep them warm; behind her sat Steve, Wanda, Sam, and Clint. Scott was nowhere to be seen. “Where’s the little guy?”

“Here,” Clint said. He held up one hand; Scott, suited up and shrunk down, waved.

“Dude, you’re so _small_ ,” she said.

“We ready?” Jane asked. “It’s freezing.”

“Yep,” Darcy said. She took off the parking brake and made a loop to go down the driveway. She started down the road, driving in the opposite direction she and Jane had taken the day before to go to Starbucks. The sky ahead was bright and clear—the kind of cloudless blue that promised that it wasn’t going to warm up at all. Darcy missed her gloves terribly.

In the backseat, Wanda peered over Steve to get a glimpse of the countryside. “Where are we going to get the tree?” she asked.

“There’s a guy about fifteen minutes from here,” Darcy answered, slowing down as the road narrowed even further. There were wooden fence-posts nearly up next to the street to demarcate property borders, and with the leaves gone from the trees, she could easily see the enormous mansions that sat far back from the road. “He’s an odd guy, but a real sweetheart. I called last night. We’ll be the only people there.”

“He cuts down trees on his property?” Clint asked. “Looks like all these folks just have grass.”

“Yeah, they’re all filthy rich,” Darcy said. “This guy’s an oddball though. Trees as far as you can see.”

“Sounds like an interesting guy,” Steve said. “You sure about him?”

“He’s good,” Darcy said. “I promise.”

* * *

Mr. Wickerthorpe’s property was an enormous mass of evergreen trees. Darcy had to go up the driveway very slowly—he’d shaved it down to half of its original size in order to plant another row of trees.

“Damn,” Steve said from the backseat, whistling low.

“Language,” Clint said, sing-song in the backseat.

“Oh, this again? I’ll show you language—”

“Enough,” Wanda said, shoving Steve away from Clint, “I want to see the trees.”

Darcy glanced into the rearview mirror to see that Wanda had leaned almost halfway across Steve to get a better look. She smiled.

“We’re here,” Darcy said. The house crept up on her all at once, as it always did. The driveway turned then ended as abruptly just at the front door. She parked and unbuckled, then leaned back into the backseat. “Before we go in…”

She caught Steve’s eye before she turned to everyone else. Clint watched her warily, Scott perched in his hand; Wanda was still staring into the trees. Sam nudged her and offered Darcy a smile. From the front, Jane looked questioningly at Darcy.

“Mr. Wickerthorpe’s…odd,” Darcy said.

“Odder than you?” Clint joked.

Darcy chuckled. “Just, uh, don’t mention anything to him, okay?”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, a new hardness in his eyes.

Darcy smiled. “You’ll see.”

She climbed out of the car and shoved her hands into her pockets. It was really cold. Her breath fogged in the air, and for a few seconds she couldn’t see anything for her steamed glasses. As soon as she _could_ see, she approached the front door and knocked as hard as she could without splitting her knuckles.

“Mr. Wickerthrope?” she called. It was silent inside. “It’s just me, Darcy?” Still, nothing. Darcy sighed, her breath hitting her full in the face. Behind her, she heard someone whispering. “It’s Miss Lewis!” she tried finally.

There came a crash from inside, followed by two more before the door opened. Mr. Wickerthorpe appeared, hunched over and grey, but grinning.

“Miss Lewis!” he said, clapping her on the hand. “Why didn’t you say so right away? Come in, come in.” He looked past her through his enormous glasses. “Are these your friends?”

Darcy nodded vigorously. “Yes. We’re here for a tree.”

Mr. Wickerthrope beamed. “You came to the right place, my dear! Come in, come in,” he said.

The inside of the house was airy, warm and bright. Plants grew in every corner, and there were orchids sitting in the windows. Mr. Wickerthorpe led them into his kitchen, where a great granite slab on a sturdy wooden base served as a kitchen table. He had dried herbs hanging from wires across the low ceilings, and fresh ones growing on the counters.

“I thought orchids were hothouse plants,” Jane said, leaning over a startlingly pink plant. “How do you grow these?”

“Oh?” Mr. Wickerthorpe asked, going pale. He glanced to Darcy.

“It’s okay,” she said. “They’re not going to hurt you, I promise.”

Mr. Wickerthorpe looked a little sick, but he picked up an empty pot across the room nonetheless. He cradled it in his arms and said, “Shh, I know it’s early. Come say hello.”

Nothing happened for a scant few seconds, then a green stem with two leaves emerged from the dirt. Jane took a deep breath, and Darcy knew without looking that everyone was staring. The plant grew, sprouting more leaves and branches. Within moments, it was a fully-sized plant.

“Basil,” Clint said, dumbfounded.

“Oh my god,” Jane said. “You—you can make things grow? That’s incredible, how…?”

“I don’t know,” Mr. Wickerthorpe said. He placed the basil plant beside another in the window, rubbing its leaves affectionately. When he looked back at Darcy and the rest, his eyes were pleading. “Please don’t report me. I grow vegetables for the Sunday Breakfast Mission and trees, and I won’t hurt anyone with this, I promise, just please…” He held up his hands in prayer, bowing his head.

Darcy came to his side. “It’s okay,” she said. “These people are cool. They’re not going to report you to anyone.”

“As long as you don’t report us,” Wanda said. She raised a hand, and the basil plant came towards her. Mr. Wickerthorpe gasped, his hands flying to his mouth. “It is a beautiful gift you have,” she said.

“I…” he said, momentarily speechless. His expression changed from disbelief to wonder. “You are like me?”

Wanda nodded, her smile sad. “Yes,” she said.

Mr. Wickerthorpe looked to each of the others in turn. “All of you?” he asked.

Steve shrugged. “More or less,” he said. On cue, Scott appeared in Clint’s arms and knocked him over.

“Hello,” Scott said, popping straight up off of the ground. “I’m sorry I didn’t say hello before.” He grasped Mr. Wickerthorpe’s hand for a vigorous handshake, “But what you just did was _awesome_.”

“You were small,” Mr. Wickerthorpe said. He looked back and forth between Wanda and Scott, then turned to Darcy. “Your friends are like me.”

“They are,” Darcy said, “and they’re here to get a Christmas tree.”

Mr. Wickerthorpe positively beamed. “Ah, a Christmas tree! Oh, that’s right, of course, it is the season, isn’t it?” He clapped. “I lose track of time so much these days, I’d almost forgotten. How wonderful! Let’s get started; there are so many varieties to choose from!”

* * *

In this way, Darcy ended up with an exceptionally fresh tree tied to the roof by Steve, Sam, Scott, and Clint.

“Wanda, a hand?” Clint asked, a mouth full of pine needles.

Wanda just giggled and held onto a mug of hot chocolate that Mr. Wickerthorpe had made. “Oh, no,” she said. “I couldn’t possibly. This is too good.”

“You know, four strong guys ought to have no trouble with this,” Darcy said, standing beside her.

“ _Three_ ,” Scott said, wheezing. “I do _not_ belong here.”

“Shut up and push,” Sam gritted out.

“What’s wrong, too heavy?” Steve joked.

“You’re not doing so good yourself,” Clint said, groaning.

“You’re doing great, fellas,” Darcy said. “Keep it up!” To Wanda, she asked, “Where’d Jane go?”

“Mr. Wickerthorpe said she could look at the plants,” Wanda said. She peered at Darcy. “How did you meet him?”

Darcy heard the _how did you know he could grow things_ clear as the sky above.

“My parents were doctors,” Darcy said. “He came to them when he moved into the neighborhood to try to get a cure.”

Wanda tilted her head. “He trusted them?” she asked. “Were they famous?”

Darcy smiled slightly. “Something like that,” she said. Wanda made no response, though she shifted slightly closer. A triumphant whoop drew both their attentions; the guys had gotten the enormous tree tied onto the top of the car.

Sam clapped his hands and whistled. “Damnedest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said.

“Language,” Steve quipped. Sam smacked him, and Steve laughed. “Ready to go, Miss Lewis.”

Darcy’s heart absolutely did _not_ do a backflip, even if Steve’s tone was more humorous than anything else.

“Right,” she said, sure she was the color of the jacket Wanda had borrowed from Natasha so long ago. “I’ll, uh, just get Jane.”

* * *

Getting the tree on the car was one thing; getting it off and into the house was something else altogether. Once again, Wanda and Darcy were permitted to stand and watch as the guys wrestled with the tree; Mr. Wickerthorpe had given Jane the basil plant he’d sprouted and she’d retreated to the second floor to put one of the leaves under a microscope for science.

“So,” Wanda said as the tree made its way to the living room, “you and Steve?”

Darcy nearly choked. “Uh,” she mumbled.

Wanda laughed. “He is good,” she said. She posed with her arms in the air like a bodybuilder. “Strong.”

“Ripped,” Darcy agreed. “But no, we’re not a thing.”

Wanda arched an eyebrow. “He’s smiling,” she said. “He has not smiled in a long time.”

Darcy’s eyes wandered back to Steve. He was sweating just a bit and laughing at something Sam had said.

“Yeah,” she said. “He hasn’t.”

* * *

Darcy quickly located a tree stand amidst the wreckage of the attic, and soon after, the tree was up. Decorating, on the other hand, was proving challenging because Darcy couldn’t find a single ornament.

“I swear there are ornaments up here,” Darcy grumbled, setting aside another box. “We’ve got lots of them, so where did they go?”

Steve made a disbelieving sound.

“They were _just here_ ,” Darcy complained. “They were here when we brought the stand down!”

“You said that,” he said. It lacked any real heat.

“Damn,” Darcy said, sitting back. She kicked up a cloud of dust as she did so, and she coughed violently. Steve patted her gently on the back until she was through it. “Thanks,” she said.

“Any time,” Steve responded. His hand lingered for just a few seconds too long.

“Not going to call me on my language?” Darcy joked.

Steve grinned. “Never say anything bad to a pretty dame,” he said.

Darcy was suddenly grateful for the dust, for she was sure Steve didn’t see her blush. “A pretty dame?” she asked. “Where are you from, the forties?”

“Eh,” Steve said, shaking one hand from side to side. “Something like that.”

“Well, your brain’s gone daft, because I’m not pretty or a dame,” Darcy said. “I’m a beautiful lady.”

Steve laid a hand on his chest. Darcy caught herself staring just as he said, “Well, _golly-gee_ , I am so sorry.”

Darcy swatted at him. “You’re lucky you’re pretty,” she groused.

“Hey, in all seriousness,” Steve said, setting aside yet another box that didn’t contain ornaments, “thanks.”

“For what?”

“This,” Steve said.

“An attic full of junk?” Darcy asked.

“That, too,” Steve said. “It’s just… You’ve done a lot for us. I haven’t missed that.”

“Oh, letting you stay here? No biggie,” Darcy said. “I mean it. Jane was already here. Honestly, it’s better with more people here. Less spooky.”

“Yeah, well, I know that had to have been a hard decision,” Steve said. There was that gentle voice again. Darcy knew it meant that Steve was being serious, but it was so damn attractive.

“You give me too much credit, hot stuff.”

“If you say so,” Steve said, returning to sorting. “But I know you’re a good person. I saw you with Mr. Wickerthorpe, and with Wanda. I know what you’ve done for me, too. I haven’t felt this good in months.”

Darcy opened another bin and tried not to let Steve’s words go to her head. She removed the lid and found a box full of dolls staring back at her. Box full of nightmares. Nope. She set that one aside.

“I’m glad,” she said, reaching for another bin. “Not that you were sad, but that you’re having a good day.”

“You did that,” Steve insisted.

“No way,” Darcy said.

“Yes way.”

“You don’t even know what that means.”

Steve made a face of mock consternation. “Ninety-year-old war vet doesn’t know modern slang?” he asked. “I’d never guessed.”

“You know, none of the exhibits say you’re a sarcastic ass,” Darcy said.

“New development,” Steve insisted. “I’m told it’s charming.”

“They’re not wrong.”

“Good enough for this?”

Darcy turned to face Steve, confused, only to see him holding a bunch of plastic mistletoe.

“Did you find the ornaments?” Darcy asked, face flaming. _This was not happening._

Steve shook his head. “Not yet,” he said, “but….You know, as an old guy, I’m a stickler for tradition.”

Darcy hung back. “Uh, no offense, but…”

Steve’s face changed ever so slightly through the dim air. “Oh,” he said. “That’s fine, you know. I mean, I don’t expect—” He scratched the back of his head. “Shit.”

“I mean,” Darcy said, “it’s just—uh, I don’t really want a pity kiss.”

“A pity—what?”

Darcy swallowed. “Look, if I’m going to kiss someone, it’s going to be because I want to and because they want to. Mutual attraction, you know.”

Steve’s mouth twisted, and he set the mistletoe aside.

“I agree,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make you do something you don’t want to do.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t _want_ to,” Darcy blurted, “just that—” Steve’s eyes were saucers. “Ooooh, I said that out loud. _Fuck_.”

Steve laughed. He _laughed_ , and if Darcy hadn’t been drowning in mortification she might have gotten lost in how lovely it sounded.

“Darcy,” he said, “ _Miss Lewis_ , listen. I want to kiss you.”

“You,” Darcy repeated, “want to kiss _me_.” Steve nodded, eyes hopeful. “You’re joking.”

“Don’t know how,” Steve said.

“Liar.” Steve just smiled. “You want to kiss me.”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Hot damn,” Darcy breathed. “Gimme that mistletoe.”

* * *

Darcy and Steve returned downstairs, breathless and grinning, to find the tree trimmed. Wanda had the audacity to wink at her. Darcy couldn’t bring herself to care. Clint was building a fire in the fireplace; Laura had emerged from upstairs, an exhausted, snot-nosed kid under each arm as she laughed at Clint's attempts to get the wood burning; Scott was in the kitchen mixing drinks; Jane was working in one of the armchairs on her laptop, typing furiously; and Sam and Wanda were putting the last ornaments on the tree. Most importantly, Steve’s hand was warm in hers.

Snow or no snow, Darcy thought it was going to be a great holiday.


End file.
